


Lemon Groves

by InsaneScriptist



Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: Crack Pairings, F/F, F/M, Hibari gets what he wants, I'm a kinky bitch, Infidelity, M/M, Multi, NSFW, PWP, Smut, Unconventional Uses for Dying Will Flames, expect to see a lot of them
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-28
Updated: 2018-03-13
Packaged: 2018-04-17 14:40:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 20,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4670447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InsaneScriptist/pseuds/InsaneScriptist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Smut and PWP for KHR characters. Expect lots of Varia, Yamamoto, Mukuro, Chrome, Spanner and some of the Acrobaleno. May occasionally include other characters from other shows. Posted here to avoid FF.net's porn policies.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Willing Watcher

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An edited version of this is in chapter three.

Willing Watcher

* * *

 

' _Sometimes, those natural-born hitman instincts pay off._ ' Yamamoto thought, as he tried to move away but couldn't because his eyes were feasting on what they saw. Usually his instincts just kept him alive and smiling but sometimes they gave him moments like this. 

This being what he had more or less stumbled in on. Yamamoto could imagine how it started. Xanxus avoiding the 9th's messengers by hiding in Squalo's room because if Xanxus didn't get the order to visit he didn't have to have to do just that. Squalo coming in from a training session or a mission, stripping out of the uniform's top and his sword on the way to his shower and Xanxus making some smart remark from the couch. Squalo shouting something and Xanxus pulling the swordsman down to him.

Of course with them being well, Xanxus and Squalo it would be so easy for them to get into a fight. Neither assassin was all that tender and Squalo not having his preferred sword attachment didn't make him any less lethal. Oh, they'd probably tumbled off the fancy little couch and onto the floor rugs when Xanxus decided that he didn't feel like investing the energy to dominate his second in command.

It was these moments of casual intimacy and understanding that both of them made look so utterly perfect that Yamamoto felt the need to adjust himself in his slacks. He probably should stop watching, but he couldn't find the will to leave. He gave up even trying when Xanxus said something to Squalo in a language that Yamamoto didn't understand, with one of those rare and deeply masculine chuckles before he licked up the column of Squalo's throat. Squalo said something back, harsh and low and threatening that made Xanxus laugh all the more; not those bitter, mocking laughs but those of deep satisfaction. Xanxus then guided Squalo's mouth to his for a deep kiss.

Yeah, Yamamoto figured that he was pretty much doomed when they figured out he was watching but at least the show was good. It was hard not to notice how tan Squalo's skin was against his bone-pale hair, the contrast it made against Xanxus' darker skin and even darker scars. The deep black of their leathers and boots against the white of the belt and the dress shirt that Xanxus still miraculously wore. It was almost like looking like a photograph in sepia and realizing that this was art. Living, breathing, deadly erotic art in motion that Yamamoto was happy to watch for as long as he could manage.

Yamamoto drew in a harsh breath as one of Xanxus' scarred hands smoothly undid Squalo's belt, and a twist of his fingers had the leathers unbuttoned. He let it out as softly and quietly as he could at the casual intimacy and knowledge that had Squalo moving his hips forward to help Xanxus pull the zipper down. Then the hand that had been buried in Squalo's hair slid down to the swordman's waist and helped the other hand slide those leathers and boxers down.

' _Oh_ ,' Yamamoto thought as Squalo groaned as Xanxus lazily pumped the length hanging over him. Squalo muttered curses as he balanced on one arm as he attempted to do what his Boss had just done with one hand earlier. Squalo cursed, then bit his lip as Xanxus ran his thumb over the tip and pressed.

"Nothing to say, shark?" Xanxus teased, in the right timber of voice that sent shivers down Yamamoto's spine and straight into his groin. Fuck. Yamamoto shifted himself again, aiming for a little comfort.

Squalo clearly had more self-control or something as he could actually articulate a response. "Well, I'd say you could fuck me if you ever get those leathers off."

"And if I just want to edge you for hours?" He replied in that same voice that Yamamoto knew would stay with him for years of fantasy material. Edging was a type of orgasm denial so the need just built and built until the orgasm finally was allowed and it hit hard enough to make the wait and erotic torture before that worth it.

Squalo practically spasmed as the thought registered and one of Xanxus' hands wrapped tightly around the base of Squalo's cock.

"I wonder if I could get you to see stars. Don't want you passing out on me. I've got plans that require you conscious."

Squalo moaned, but it turned into a keening sound, ending with a whimper as one hand teased his cock and the other was busy roaming all over the swordman's body. Squalo had given up trying to balance on one arm and undoing Xanxus' straining leathers, instead Squalo was panting on his elbows with his ass raised in the air.

Squalo started to mutter something that turned into another moan, distorting whatever word in whatever language it might have been in to something unintelligible to Yamamoto. Whatever might have been said was ignored by Xanxus who through those glorious abs lifted himself off the floor enough to whisper something in Squalo's ear before he nipped the top of it with an unrepentant grin.

"You." Squalo hissed, utterly focused on the man below him.

Xanxus didn't let Squalo's ire effect him in the least. Instead he used the hand that wasn't being used as a cock ring to guide Squalo's head and crash their lips together and Yamamoto noticed as the kiss broke apart, Squalo had blood on his lips.

That brief smile of victory faded quickly as Xanxus set clever hands to work over Squalo's cock. Oh, that was certainly one way to reverse who was on top, Yamamoto noticed, as Squalo's legs stopped holding that ass in the air and his spine transformed to water as Xanxus slid a leg out from between Squalo's and replaced a hand with his mouth.

Forget Xanxus' husky voice for fantasy material. This had just surpassed that. Xanxus clearly knew what he was doing as Yamamoto thought about what Xanxus' tongue and mouth were clearly out to ruin whatever sense of composure the swordsman had. Squalo shouted a curse word, as his hips bucked, a hand buried in Xanxus' hair and feathers. Squalo was a panting mess as Xanxus removed his mouth, showing Squalo's still hard cock.

Yamamoto found his hand around his own hard cock without any conscious knowledge of how it got there, much less inside his slacks.

"Xa-an-xus?" Squalo panted, wild-eyed.

"No." Xanxus replied and went down again, and down until his lips were kissing his hand that restrained Squalo's orgasm. Yamamoto didn't know what Xanxus was doing but it was making Squalo repeat filthy phrases and say prayers to a God he didn't believe in for relief.

It was shorter this time, and Squalo was too busy trying to breathe to string together a coherent thought, much less the ability to say something. Yamamoto slowed his own strokes down now that Xanxus wasn't bobbing and licking his way up and down Squalo's weeping cock.

There was a short curse from Xanxus as it ran down onto his hand but clearly the man could adapt to that. If adaption meant that Xanxus gathered up the semen with his spare hand and wiped it on Squalo's chest and started saying filthy erotic things about it and Squalo.

Squalo was still registering what Xanxus was saying, judging by how his hips moved but he was in that mindless place where all that was wanted was an orgasm, beyond even the need to breathe.

"Squalo, cum." Xanxus ordered and Yamamoto watched as Squalo happily did so, eyes rolling back as he slid boneless to towards the floor. Xanxus pumped his hand up and down with a steady rhythm, making Squalo's cock turn into a fountain of white.

Yamamoto licked his lips, and tried to prevent his own orgasm when Xanxus finally undid his own leathers revealing Xanxus' own leaking cock. A few harsh jerks and Xanxus' cum joined Squalo's own on the swordsman's chest. The scarred man leaned over Squalo and nibbled at that pale neck. A hand reached around and pulled the paler man to his feet as Xanxus worked off Squalo's bound boots and his own laced up boots.

Squalo was mostly insensate as Xanxus stripped him naked of everything but the glove and bandages over his prosthetic hand and Xanxus gave a look directly towards Yamamoto.

"Next time trash, ask to watch or join in. That's manners." Xanxus lectured, bleeding lip flashing a self-satisfied grin. "Get out of here trash and don't come back until Friday."

Yamamoto went, despite how awkward an erection that hard made walking. Fuck, he was going to have to find a place to take care of that. Slacks didn't hide that at all.

At least he had a lot of new material in his fantasies to use for self-pleasure. ' _Next time_ ,' Yamamoto swore, ' _I'm joining them_.'

* * *

Would you believe this is the first bit of smut I've written in forever? Guess it's a lot like riding a bike, but sexier.  ~~I've been meaning to write that Squalo, Xanxus and Bianchi threesome but it's just not happening which is a pity.~~

Notice as of Jan 5th, 2015: Put an edited version of this in Chapter 3. That reads better.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Has no one ever wondered why Spanner has handcuffs in his room in the future arc? Kinda kinky really... Also writing this made me ship a new pairing. I wonder how many I can convert....

In a number of ways, Spanner is glad that his future is technically in his past now. It really made puberty easier the second time around since he’s already figured out a lot of the emotional things, explored his sexuality and more that’s associated with being nearly grown and early adult hood; even with the added complication of being mafia for all that his talents lie with machinery and electronics over more direct killing methods like shooting someone. Oil was a chore enough to clean off of his clothing; no need to try and add blood to the mess.

Even without the future memories, he never ever really seemed to have that same sort of struggle that a lot of people seemed to have. He liked what he liked, was willing to try anything at least once -three times if he wasn’t sure he really liked it so he’d know if it was just inexperience or his partner- and didn’t think anything more about if it was weird or not. He was just being him. If they didn’t like it, well, it didn’t bother him. He could move on.

It did bother him when people assumed he was too wrapped up in his Moscas, machinery, studies and more to do anything outside the labs and development rooms. Clearly, people were idiots or too biased to realize how much fun science and sex were. Some even thought he was unable to take care of himself, much less have something approaching a sex life.

Spanner had built the mini-Mosca for a reason, which was to take care of himself. If Spanner wasn’t going to remember to feed himself then the mini-Mosca could and Spanner could get back to work. See efficiency? He didn’t even have stop and cook something as the mini-Mosca could cook for him. Actually it did cook better than he did too; Spanner had programmed the mini-Mosca to do that, which still didn't explain the tea. Spanner wasn’t sure how but mini-Mosca made better tea than he did when Spanner knew they made tea exactly the same as the mini-Mosca was programmed to do.

So armed with knowledge and apathy Spanner found people to cater to his kinks. He wasn’t afraid to ask and really, even if he did get rejected sometimes it wasn’t a cruel let-down; for the most part Spanner just asked what sort of relationship they wanted and any absolutely will-not-do kinks. Spanner preferred long-term occasional not-exclusive partners. Not a serious relationship, but casual? That he could do, easily despite being mafia because when Spanner decided he was going to do a serious relationship he would be utterly serious about it. Until then, he was going and staying casual. The casual sort of friends-with-benefits thing was something that none of his fellows inventors could manage.

There was Shoichi was brilliant but so shy and such a workaholic that Spanner was half convinced that Shoichi would die a virgin because he’d die of embarrassment or fall asleep as the clothes were coming off. The less said of Giannini and his ability to appeal to the fairer sex the better. Then there was Verde.

Verde usually focused on science but now that the curse was broken and Verde was a teenage genius again, the man had found a few female researchers and talked science and art to them but not love; just pure carnality, lust and 'physical research' while machines hummed and analyzed in the background. There were some grumbles about this, but mostly those were jealous ones about Verde’s supposed ‘harem.’ Spanner had never heard a more ridiculous idea in his life.

Maybe it was the idea that they were all lonely geeks or always locked into the labs or too busy researching or inventing -some of which Spanner had to admit was true for some- but...

“No, I’m not going on a blind date.” Spanner replied, moving his lollipop in his mouth so he could be heard more clearly. He even held his arms up in an ‘X’ position.

“Uh, why not?” Asked his college acquaintance; for all that Spanner already knew the material -future knowledge was wonderful- having certifications and proof that he knew it was helpful.

Spanner thought of several responses, the first being ‘I’m in the mafia and blind dates are stupid’ but the second was more accurate.

“I already have a date. She likes handcuffs, roleplay and sweets.” Spanner replied.

“You don’t have to lie man.”

Somewhere in refuting that -because Spanner wasn’t a liar- it was decided that he should bring his girl along with him, and maybe some other guy so the girl he was supposed to be paired off with wasn’t left at loose ends.

Well, Shoichi did need to get out of the lab more...

* * *

“What’s on your mind, Spanner-kun?” She asked, slipping into the bath with him. She was fresh from a shower after training and he was only in the onsen-style bath; mini-Mosca had dragged Spanner away from his work for bath time, which Spanner was using to contemplate how people made no sense.

“Why people are so desperate for companionship that they resort to intermediaries and why they have to attempt to hook acquaintances up as couples.” He explained. People didn’t make sense.

“The first is that not all people are comfortable with seeking mates on their own and they do not wish to live without what they instinctively want; partnership, trust, sex and a way to pass on their genes. The second ties into social hierarchy and complex interpersonal relationships that cannot be generalized beyond wanting to share the experience of a relationship without sharing the person they’re in a relationship with. Matchmakers also derive satisfaction from making a good match and seeing the relationship develop.”

“Huh. Well, some of my college acquaintances want to meet you. They apparently don’t think you’re real since they tried to set me up on a blind group date.”

“How does that even work? Aren’t blind dates individualized by a third-party?”

“Someone brings some number of people, another person brings enough to match it and then we all go somewhere out to eat as a group or something. So I’m thinking that we drag Shoichi along, make sure he doesn’t die of anxiety and just tag along with the group for a bit. Then we can rescue Shoichi, drop him off and maybe salvage our original date night.”

She was silent for a moment and then she asked. “Why are you letting them do that?”

“Do what?”

“Ruin our date? You don’t have to go, just send a picture of me right?”

“Is that permission to take some?” Spanner asked, clarifying.

“Oh yes, and make sure they’re good because you’re taking them on my phone. No identifying features though, so a mask?” She mused. “That’s for Friday though.”

“Now I like that option a lot better.” He replied, smirking.

“Ara, ara, your interest is showing Spanner-kun.” She fanned herself, as coy as could be. “Maybe you could do something with this? I really don’t know what to do and I need to get this... working.” She practically purred, as she slid out of the onsen and into open air, revealing slim curves and trim muscles that she gestured to. “A thorough tune-up if you please?”

“And what tool should this humble mechanic use?” Spanner questioned as he followed her out of the onsen and kissed her hand; both to see the blush and because he wanted to.

“Well, hands are such clever things. Maybe they could do something.” She led him to a more secluded area of the base’s bathing complex; God bless the Japanese and their sense of hygiene if not their need to group socialize.

Then Spanner felt the illusion appear around them.

“Privacy,” She explained, “without actually having to go for it.”

“Trying something new out?” He guessed, as he let a hand trail up.

“Well, I could have gone the self-pleasure route, but I saw you in the bath and saw a better way to relax than a soak.”

“Hmmm, I like this way much better too, but um...”

A flash of indigo fire and there was a condom in her hands. “For later,” she supplied, “but it’s best to get that on now.”

Spanner nodded, and tore into the wrapper with his teeth as he thought about what kinks might really be possible with Mist Flames as it was clear that he hadn't thought of them previously. The package of foil was taken from him before he could take anything out and then any thoughts beyond what he was feeling as she dropped to her knees. She licked her way from base to tip, little darting licks that set his nerves buzzing, more so once she started playing under the head of his cock. That always got him too heated to think, but he certainly reacted when she took him into her mouth.

He groaned and she hummed this string of notes. Spanner didn’t know what song they were to -he couldn't remember any of it after the first three notes- but the effect was always the same as they made it nearly impossible to think. The work she was doing with her tongue just added to it, as she slowly drew her mouth away from his cock. Then, as she usually did, she kissed the head and rolled the condom down on it.

‘ _The best presents come wrapped and with kisses_ ,’ she had told him when he asked about that habit. Spanner agreed with that sentiment.

So he brought their lips together for a not-so-lazy kiss, before he stopped being lazy with his hands. Within minutes Spanner has her gasping, moaning and calling his name because he knows what she likes, what she prefers and what she wants. He knows she loves whispered words onto her jaw, nips to the ear lobe, the crawl of fingers up her back that push her so close, the slow methodical way he has as he glides his hands up her leg and down her thigh. How much she likes the way he plays with her breasts, and how odd and empowering receiving oral she found to be. He knows she likes costumes, how the roles let her be more bold and how she used to stutter over some of her lines. Just like he knows that she gets shy still, despite how much they’ve done and explored together.

He’s got two fingers in her, digging deep and pulling forward in an stuttering rhythm making her gasp and spasm. He feels her insides clench around his fingers and she’s panting from the orgasm. He adjusts their posture while she’s too pliant to resist and lays her out on the bench, putting a towel underneath her front.

Spanner licks his fingers clean and pulls her close to him. Oh, he's so hard that he can hard barely think but his cock is nestled behind her and he waits until she's returned to her senses so he's not taking advantage of her euphoria; he can be quite the gentleman at times, but he knows that he doesn't always stay that way.

"Spanner? I'm ready." She informed him, only a little breathless.

"Good." He ordered. "Put your hands on the bench and hold them there." He watched as she did so and ran a hand along her ribs, and started playing with one of her nipples. Then because he could, he took his other hand and reached around her waist and between her legs and dragged one finger up from between her lower lips, applying pressure and switching fingers until she was making inarticulate noise.

He pauses then, despite the strain and his utter need to fuck her into the bench. Not long enough for her to even out her breathing but enough for her to notice he had stopped petting her body. He lines his cock up and teased that willing hole; her hips were twitching for him. Then once he had his angle just right, he plunges into her as deep as he could go. This action was worth all the lead up, but he knew he couldn't really hold on for long. Not with the teasing and waiting and wanting.

He braces one hand on her waist and the other reaches down and their hips roll into each other. Spanner can feel his thrusts becoming short and knows that he won't last long but blame the English in him that he wants her to climax at least once more. Rubbing there, he can feel the result around his cock despite the condom and then her walls start shuddering and Spanner braces himself as he reaches his own climax.

As soon as Spanner's able he pulls himself up so that he's not smothering her with his weight and pulls her close. She hums in contentment.

"Spanner?"

"Hm Chrome-chan?"

"We should do this again." She snuggled into him.

"That'll be sweet." He said, smiling. "Any idea when?"

"I'll have mini-Mosca bring you around."

"I'll look forward to it."

* * *

I wanted this to be Spanner and Shoichi talking about cuffs and BDSM aka Shoichi’s first time with the cuffs, but Shoichi just blushed and stuttered and Chrome looked at the handcuffs and said, “I’m interested.” Then I suffered an attack of plot, so things got added on and so on and then the handcuffs barely get a mention.  ~~I have no idea where the spiel about Verde came from either, except it seemed so very plausible.~~  I somehow really like Chrome and Spanner together now so I’ll eventually write more on it. Totally crack but disturbingly plausible, really.

Also Mist Flames have so many non-combat related uses that it’s not funny but it is very pervy.  ~~Telling Mukuro to go fuck himself is interesting. It’s more ‘go have an orgy with solid illusions of you in a past life.’ Mukuro takes masturbation to a whole new level of kink which will be written about eventually.~~


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yamamoto sees a lot when he visits the Varia. Sometimes it's pretty intimate. He hadn't intended to be a voyeur.

‘ _Sometimes, those natural-born hitman instincts pay off_.’ Yamamoto thought, as he tried to move away but couldn’t because his eyes were feasting on what they saw. Usually his instincts just kept him alive and smiling but sometimes they gave him moments like this. 

 _This_ being what he had more or less stumbled in on. Yamamoto could imagine how it started. Xanxus avoiding the 9th’s messengers by hiding in Squalo’s room because if Xanxus didn’t get the order to visit he didn’t have to have to do just that. Squalo coming in from a training session or a mission, stripping out of the uniform’s top and his sword on the way to his shower and Xanxus making some smart remark from the couch. Squalo shouting something and Xanxus pulling the swordsman down to him. Or maybe Xanxus surprised Squalo fresh from the shower, but Squalo's hair didn't seem that wet.

Of course with them being well, Xanxus and Squalo it would be so easy for them to get into a fight. Neither assassin was all that tender and Squalo not having his preferred sword attachment didn’t make him any less lethal. Not really. Oh, they’d probably tumbled off the fancy little couch and onto the floor rugs when Xanxus decided that he didn’t feel like investing the energy to dominate his second in command because Squalo would jump at the chance to be the aggressor; it was the way Squalo was, just like how he was savoring the experience.

It was these moments of casual intimacy and understanding that both of them made look so utterly perfect that Yamamoto felt the need to adjust himself in his slacks. He probably should stop watching, but he couldn’t find the will to leave. He gave up even trying when Xanxus said something to Squalo in a language that Yamamoto didn’t understand, with one of those rare and deeply masculine chuckles before he licked up the column of Squalo’s throat. Squalo said something back, harsh and low and threatening that made Xanxus laugh all the more; not those bitter ones or the mocking laughs but one of deep satisfaction. Xanxus then guided Squalo’s mouth to his for a deep kiss.

Yeah, Yamamoto figured that he was pretty much doomed when they figured out he was watching but at least the show was good. It was hard not to notice how tan Squalo’s skin was against his bone-pale hair, the contrast it made against Xanxus’ darker skin and even darker scars. The deep black of their leathers and boots against the white of the belt and the dress shirt that Xanxus still miraculously wore, even if it was translucent with dampness. It was almost like looking like a photograph in sepia and realizing that this was art. Living, breathing, deadly erotic art in motion that Yamamoto was happy to watch for as long as he could manage.

Yamamoto drew in a harsh breath as one of Xanxus’ scarred hands smoothly undid Squalo’s belt, and a twist of his fingers had the leathers unbuttoned. He let it out as softly and quietly as he could at the casual intimacy and knowledge that had Squalo moving his hips forward to help Xanxus pull the zipper down. Then the hand that had been buried in Squalo’s hair slid down to the swordman’s waist and helped the other hand slide those leathers and boxers down.

‘ _Oh_ ,’ Yamamoto thought as Squalo groaned as Xanxus lazily pumped the length hanging over him. Squalo muttered curses as he balanced on one arm as he attempted to do what his Boss had just done with one hand earlier. Squalo cursed, then bit his lip as Xanxus ran his thumb over the tip and pressed.

“Nothing to say, shark?” Xanxus teased, in the right timber of voice that sent shivers down Yamamoto’s spine and straight into his groin. _Fuck_. Yamamoto shifted himself again, aiming for a little comfort.

Squalo clearly had more self-control or something as he could actually articulate a response. “Well, I’d say you could fuck me if you ever get those leathers off.”

“And if I just want to edge you for hours?” He replied in that same voice that Yamamoto knew would stay with him for years of fantasy material. Yamamoto knew what edging was. Edging was a type of orgasm denial so the need just built and built until the orgasm finally was allowed and it hit hard enough to make the wait and erotic torture before that worth it.

Squalo practically spasmed as the thought registered and one of Xanxus’ hands wrapped tightly around the base of Squalo’s cock.

“I wonder if I could get you to see stars. Don’t want you passing out on me. I’ve got plans that require you conscious.”

Squalo moaned, but it turned into a keening sound, ending with a whimper as one hand teased his cock and the other was busy roaming all over the swordman’s body with intimate foreknowledge of what to do. Squalo had given up trying to balance on one arm and undoing Xanxus’ straining leathers, instead Squalo was panting on his elbows with his ass raised in the air.

Squalo started to mutter something that turned into another moan, distorting whatever word in whatever language it might have been in to something unintelligible to Yamamoto. Whatever might have been said was ignored by Xanxus who through those glorious abs lifted himself off the floor enough to whisper something in Squalo’s ear before he nipped the top of that ear with an unrepentant grin.

“You.” Squalo hissed, utterly focused on the man below him.

Xanxus didn’t let Squalo’s ire effect him in the least. Instead he used the hand that wasn’t being used as a cock ring to crash their lips together and as the kiss broke apart, Squalo had blood on his lips.

That brief burst of victory on Squalo's part faded quickly as Xanxus set clever hands to work over Squalo’s cock. Oh, that was certainly one way to reverse who was on top, Yamamoto noticed, as Squalo’s legs stopped holding that ass in the air and his spine transformed to water as Xanxus slid a leg out from between Squalo’s, rolled them over, slid down and replaced a hand with his mouth.

Forget Xanxus’ husky voice for fantasy material. This had just surpassed that. Xanxus clearly knew what he was doing as Yamamoto thought about what Xanxus’ tongue and mouth were clearly out to ruin whatever sense of composure the older swordsman had. Squalo shouted a curse word, as his hips bucked, a hand buried in Xanxus’ hair and feathers. Squalo was a panting mess as Xanxus removed his mouth, showing Squalo’s still hard cock.

Yamamoto found his hand around his own hard cock without any conscious knowledge of how it got there.

“Xa-an-xus?” Squalo panted, wild-eyed.

“No.” Xanxus replied and went down again, and down until his lips were kissing his hand that restrained Squalo’s orgasm. Yamamoto didn’t know what Xanxus was doing but it was making Squalo repeat filthy phrases and say prayers to a God he didn’t believe in for relief. Yamamoto didn't know how long he watched until Xanxus came up, some impossible amount of time later but Yamamoto felt his breath hitch when Xanxus went down again.

It was shorter this time, and Squalo was too busy trying to breathe to string together a coherent thought, much less the ability to say something. Yamamoto slowed his own strokes down now that Xanxus wasn’t bobbing and licking his way up and down Squalo’s weeping cock.

There was a short curse from Xanxus as it ran down onto his hand but clearly the man could adapt to that. If adaption meant that Xanxus gathered up the semen with his spare hand and wiped it on Squalo’s chest and started saying filthy erotic things about it and Squalo. Promises of destruction to dignity, to self-control and sense. The eradication of composure and promises of ruin. It was the most Xanxus-thing that Xanxus had done while Yamamoto had watched but it suited him.

Squalo was still registering what Xanxus was saying, judging by how his hips moved but he was in that mindless place where all that was wanted was an orgasm, beyond even the need to breath. Xanxus watch, judged and then-

“Squalo, cum.” Xanxus ordered and Yamamoto watched as Squalo happily did so, eyes rolling back as he slid boneless towards the floor. Xanxus pumped his hand up and down with a steady rhythm, making Squalo’s cock turn into a fountain of white.

Yamamoto licked his lips, and tried to prevent his own orgasm when Xanxus finally undid his own leathers revealing Xanxus’ own leaking cock. A few harsh jerks and Xanxus’ cum joined Squalo’s own on the swordsman’s chest. The scarred man leaned over, arms holding him strong above the mess he had created on Squalo and nibbled at that pale neck. A hand reached around and pulled the paler man to a sitting position as Xanxus worked off Squalo’s bound boots and his own laced up boots.

Squalo was mostly insensate as Xanxus stripped his naked over everything but the glove and bandages over his prosthetic hand and Xanxus gave a look directly towards Yamamoto.

“Next time trash, ask to watch or join in. That’s manners.” Xanxus lectured, bleeding lip flashing a self-satisfied grin. “Get out of here trash and don’t come back until Friday.”

Yamamoto went, despite how awkward an erection that hard made walking. Fuck, he was going to have to find a place to take care of that. Slacks didn’t hide that at all.

At least he had a lot of new material in his fantasies to use for self-pleasure. ‘ _Next time_ ,’ Yamamoto swore, ‘ _I’m joining them_.’

* * *

Did some edits so it reads better. The original version that was on tumblr is Chapter 1.

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dino has weaknesses. Yamamoto is all of them.

Dino knew that having a whip and knowing how to use it would invite people to make certain views about him. And his sexual preferences.

For a while he had gotten flustered and then he became used to the good-natured teasing part. It then became a bit more commonplace and unworthy of gossip when there were other things to gossip about; like business, the affairs of the influential, politics and money.

And then Tsuna was installed as Decimo, or Neo-Primo depending on who you asked. With Tsuna came his Guardians, including his once student Hibari. The tonfa weren’t worthy of notice beyond the fact he was very skilled with them and that they hurt a lot when Hibaria hit.

Oh no, it wasn’t the tonfa so much as the handcuffs; the box weapon that he rarely had cause to use. However Hibari might use restraints but he’s not all that fond of using self-restraint in battle. It’s a lovely sentiment in battle, but kinda troublesome if all his little brother’s complaints about the paperwork are any indication. Some people delight in pressing Hibari’s buttons.

It takes three months, six assassination attempts and much much more to get the gossip from springing up each time he left the room or interacted with the Vongola at any level. Romario may be old enough to be Dino’s father but he still has sharp ears, much like Dino himself does.

Dino hears a lot and well… Reborn is possessive of his students and doesn’t mind checking up on them or making fun of them either. Dino just doesn’t want to know how Reborn acquired those sorts of magazines when he appeared so young, even after the Arcobaleno Curse had broken. It’s best not to think about it. Especially when Reborn starts bookmarking those shopping catalogs and leaving notes.

The problem is that as much as Dino has lethal acquaintances -Squalo, Hibari and Bianchi- no one is quite as lethal to him as Yamamoto. It’s not an overt deadliness but it is still fatal all the same.

Dino has learned

1\. He’s weak to friendly people.

That’s not really a problem. Most of the mafia aren’t genuinely friendly. Except Yamamoto is.

2\. Yamamoto’s suggestions are very hard to resist.

Like right now, he’s supposed to be doing paperwork; reviewing a business deal in the works.

3\. Yamamoto is utterly shameless in getting what he wants.

Which nicely explains how a mere visit to Dino’s office ended up with the pair of them indulging in office sex.

Again.

“Takeshi,” Dino sighs wistfully drawing out the Rain’s first name as much as the syllables allow, “maybe we’ll make it to the bedroom one day.”

“Okay. Could we bring your desk along?” He asks, ever cheerful.

His desk? “Why?”

“You get this look on your face that’s different and I really like it.”

“Oh. That’s just a matter of concentration. I’m sure I could muster some up without the desk outside my office.”

“Yeah. Right motivation and all that?” The swordsman asks full with enough confidence to make Dino a little envious.

“I might even bring out my whip.” He jokes.

There’s a tenseness that Dino reads as anticipation, because Yamamoto like all the other deadly people he knows are very much all or nothing people.

There’s a lot of gossip about Dino’s preferences and tastes but he’s never said if it was true or not.

With the right partner of course it is.


	5. On the Formation of Lal's Harem

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Teasing Lal about Colonello ended far happier than it probably should have...

 

 

 

 

Reborn decided to tell Lal that her student’s student has fallen for his teacher and it appears to be mutual. He said that to Colonello a few weeks ago and his rival looked far less than composed over the past week and spent a lot of time with his new lover.

Lal gives Reborn an eloquent look and says, “They still have a lot to learn, especially in the bedroom.”

Reborn is a little shocked that she already knows about her former student's new love and approved of it but he covers it well. “I suppose that makes you single now?”

“Oh, no.” She corrects, pulling Reborn down to her height. “They still have lessons to learn and some need a demonstration other than porn.”

Reborn needs no further encouragement to draw Lal into a kiss. “I suppose I’m the devilishly handsome co-instructor?”

“That you are.”

* * *

 

Contrary to Reborn’s expectations, despite being Lal’s co-instructor for the night he did learn quite a bit.

One was that Lal knew what she was doing with a strap on; by all the saints and that was holy did she know what she was doing. Two was that he was more turned on by seeing his rival and his rival’s student bound and gagged than he thought he would be; naked and bound in a way that they could only watch, helplessly. Three was that he had forgotten about his own minor exhibitionist streak while he had been cursed tiny; he remembered it since Colonello and Ryohei were watching.

The fourth thing was an expansion on an old lesson which was when Lal taught something she wanted proof of competence. The fifth thing Reborn learned was that Ryohei topped. The sixth thing Reborn learned was that Lal didn’t mind threesomes.

The seventh was that Reborn was weak to Lal’s ‘come hither’ smoldering gaze which lead to the conclusion that Reborn didn’t exactly mind the idea of a foursome, sex with his rival or his student’s brother-in-law so it happened. It happened rather frequently with or without Lal, or Colonello or even Ryohei and himself.

He might have wanted to say something about being part of Lal’s harem -there was still quibbling over whose harem it actually was just for kicks and inducing reactions- and how such a relationship should never actually work out. It somehow did because they understood each other and trusted each other with their lives, dreams, and hopes for the future. It helped that Ryohei was magnificently domestic which complemented Reborn’s food snobbery and Lal and Colonello’s military neatness. It really shouldn’t have worked but it did and Reborn knew he was all the happier for it.

Plus, teasing his student and quasi-brother-in-law was so much more fun this way; they were family now of a sort.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written long ago on tumblr. Now edited. Will probably write something explicit in this verse later.


	6. Trust and Affection

Mammon trusts Xanxus for all the things he’s not.

He’s not patient; he waits, he plots, he paces, he acts.

He’s not passive; he’s aggressive, decisive and sometimes impulsive.

He’s not all-knowing; he’s sharp, intuitive and far more intelligent than he looks.

Mammon trusts Xanxus because he’s the least like Luce ever was, which is a disservice to Xanxus’s own appeal; Luce was a strong Sky, the strongest of that time but bland is bland, sweetness was a trap and Xanxus is many things but bland he is most certainly not. They’re both Skies but Mammon prefers Xanxus. Mammon would chose Xanxus over any other Sky, especially Luce.

And not just because Luce betrayed the rest of the Arcobaleno. She hadn’t felt right to Mammon who had been Viper then, but with months of time spent on requests with the other Arcobaleno prior to the Curse… it had been enough time for Mammon -Viper- to forget that initial unease. Sweetness and blandness enough for tolerance, fondness and even _like_ can be fostered over time. Which was, in retrospect, very much a mistake.

With Xanxus, it had felt like Mammon had found footing in a constantly spinning world that didn't make sense anymore outside of calculations of profit. It didn’t make the footing safe, like lighthouses didn’t make harbors safe but the light would illuminate and warn of dangers nonetheless; because that’s what they do. So long as the fire was tended.

Some people speak of Skies as if they’re home. It’s a dangerous notion, Mammon finds and believes, because one person being another’s everything, their home, much less six people’s everything is enough to break a person. Hopelessly co-dependent in ways that Mammon won’t tolerate happening to their own self.

None of the Varia will; they’re too much themselves to fall to pieces so pathetically, even _Levi_. At least obviously. They’ve got Quality, they’ve got pride.

(That stupid frog hat Bel made Fran wear in that alternative, discontinued future _says so much_. Mammon only skimmed those memories sent back some weeks later, but it was enough to know, much less feel echoes of emotion.)

Xanxus feels of trust, danger, barely banked fire roaring in greens and uncommon colors on a beach in daylight and not in a hearth _because it can_. A steady feeling of comfort from the fact that he’ll kill for you, you’ll kill for him, a pack of killers at your side trusting each other enough to hunt larger more dangerous prey, ready to burn down the world if necessary. A joy knowing that he’ll survive, you’ll survive because of the strength he has. Not just in Flames but in spirit.

Xanxus is too spiteful to die to any meager flesh-wound or planned ambush. He might end up wounded but that just makes him more dangerous. Sacrifice of those that are his, especially those he’s close to isn’t something he does to his people; scum deserves death, but trash can be useful and that usefulness can be respected. Somewhat. He gets rightfully furious about them and the situation if they’re hurt in fact.

Luce in comparison… just waited to die. And due to that decision made sure her daughter would follow after and her granddaughter would likely die in the same manner. It’s a decision that cost her famiglia too in terms of prestige, power and so many other ways. Especially since Luce wasn't just sacrificing herself to the world. She was sacrificing her family and her famiglia that trusted her as well.

The latter is something that Mammon cannot understand. Intellectually it was just a few lives against the world but personally… Mammon was not named after a demon of greed because Mammon was that self-sacrificing. 

(There was a reason the rest of the Arcobaleno had to be tricked and then Cursed.)

Xanxus at least doesn’t want more than what Mammon is willing to offer or be paid for. Not for the world, not for the Vongola.

Maybe that’s why Mammon is willing to give him loyalty, trust and so much more. Not just because he’s almost the opposite of Luce in every way that matters as individuals.

Now the question became, how to seduce your Boss without damaging his trust and opinion of you?

* * *

It’s not a simple thing to attempt. It’s not going to be easy. It might actually end up in tears and pain and heartbreak because that’s what happens when you give your heart and body to another and they don’t want it.

Flirting with Boss is a no go. Boss and social grace don’t go together like Xanxus and wildness does. Plus it’s an obvious change in behavior and Mammon is not going to let Squalo or Bel see anything. Not Luss or Levi either.

Playing mind-games with Boss isn’t going to work either. Boss loves them and the challenge but frustration while stuck is generally taken out on furniture, Squalo and Levi. Also a bad idea.

Bad idea number three is seducing Boss in his bed, by waiting for him or something. Xanxus’ bedroom is almost as much of a sanctuary for him as his office; more or less so depending on circumstances.

The next bad idea is confessing. Probably in Boss’ office for the most even temperament and most ideal atmosphere. Timing it right isn’t hard. After so many missions, timing is the easy part.

It is getting the confidence for it. Here, Mammon is, free from that Curse, finally adult again and it wasn’t like Viper was without experience. Boss is younger than the calendar says but…

Mammon should stop being a coward and be what their name says. Both the name before the Curse and the name after it. Be greedy for more, striking to get what is wanted.

It is still a bad idea, but it is actually doable. The chance of success is lower than what the Varia accepts but it is far far higher than any other plan’s. Mammon thinks about other plans, back-ups and how to nudge that chance of success higher.

Mammon’s not ever been one much for gambling but Mammon has before, generally while fiddling with the odds, books and pools. The odds may not be the most favorable, but that doesn’t mean the best odds are a sure bet.

Especially since Xanxus is not the most predictable of people.

* * *

Hours after implementing such a plan, Mammon is considering how wonderful success feels. It feels like fire, lingering heat tracing patterns in skin, like nerves and mind shattered under pleasurable continuous assault. If feels like being blindfolded and worshiped as a captive goddess. It feels like harsh breaths, profanity in the air that has an accent straight from the streets of Sicily.

Boss had traced tattoos with his hands, with his tongue. Boss had nibbled, here, there, using hands to stoke the sensations higher and hotter, again and again.

Xanxus might be young, but he was old enough and wise enough to know how to please a woman well. How much of that was forethought, how much was experience and how much was instinct was hard to tell, but it was good enough to show how previously lacking Mammon’s former experiences were.

Mammon trusts Xanxus for all the things he’s not.

Mammon may, maybe does, loves Xanxus for all the things he is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been wanting to write them for a while. I mean with all the R27. some XM or MX isn't too far out there? Or would it really be VX or XV since according to the wiki M is used as short hand for M.M. which is really odd.  
> Also headcanon that those triangles are far from the only tattoos that Mammon/Viper has.
> 
> Also some edits from when I drabbled the draft on tumblr. Also it may be obvious that I hate Luce? Oops?


	7. Fire and Blood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bel seduces Xanxus because his blood runs hot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just so you know, I generally don’t write Bel because it is hard to get into his head. There’s crazy and then there’s Crazy and then there’s CRAZY.  
> Bel of course manages all three. But since I don’t remember the fanfic that had Bel seducing Xanxus in it, I need to write my own. Clearly.

Bel’s blood was running hot.

His body wasn’t feverish, wasn’t poisoned but his mind felt it as heat nonetheless. This heat, it had a special sort of madness when he embraced it.

The heat of his blood manifested as an urge. To subdue, to conquest, to kill, to bask in victory with all the wantonness that only happened when one didn’t even recognize the concept of shame.

The first time he had embraced that particular madness had ended with a dead twin brother along with all the castle servants.

The second time brought him to the Varia’s attention less than a year later; it also brought the Varia to his attention.

It had been a lesser heat then, something he had started to learn how to control on his own. Killing worked, but not the easy targets; not unless there was a lot of them. Not the street-walkers, the homeless peasants without land or lord, nor any of the grown men and women too oblivious to any sort of danger. Too safe, too boring to be worth the bother.

Being a genius and knowing of the Varia, it was only simple math. Bel was paid to do what he was going to do anyway, he obtained more resources than what he previously had and other benefits that peasants should give Royalty anyway. Royals didn't have to obey the law any more than any other citizen.

Joining the Varia meant he met Xanxus. The one man that Bel could tell had a fire that ran hotter and fiercer than his own. Bel followed that heat, that beckoning call. One that could only be quenched in blood.

Or frozen along with body and mind for eight years. That was something that had happened. Then while Bel had grown those eight years in skill and intelligence, Xanxus was as he was.

And somehow better than Bel remembered.

Treacherous to cross, ruthless and cunning to the point he enjoyed every single step of the grand game. Even the boring finicky bits that Bel found tedious.

Clearly Xanxus was the better fit to be Decimo; his blood had a fire that simmered higher than Bel’s own royal blood.

Except details here and there didn’t quite fit, but Bel didn’t dare confront Xanxus about his suspicions. That wasn’t how the game was played.

Instead he let the drama play out, playing his role to the hilt. The peasants on the other side weren’t close enough or smart enough to notice the difference.

And then after the news that Xanxus’ bloodline was not of the Vongola’s, Bel didn’t care. A man with a fire like that burning his blood would and could carve out their own kingdom, if they ever felt the need to.

So Xanxus’ blood simmered and now Bel’s was too and he wasn’t allowed to kill any of those nearby or to be absent from this dumb celebration either.

Especially if Boss was here, if not exactly participating. _Actually,_ Bel thought through the burning of his blood, _he seems to have ditched us_.

Hunting down his Boss somehow made the heat more intense, move overwhelming and more focused. Bel almost staggered, but that was for drunk peasants so he corrected that before anyone could even recognize that it was anything less than a calculated movement. But the fire was hot enough that he was almost overwhelmed by it.

He found Xanxus a ways away from the noise and the crush of the proletariat that thought themselves the best the mafia had. Clearly they needed to visit the Varia, because all of those jumped-up peasants had mere flickers compared to the blaze that was his Boss.

Bel could tell that Xanxus’ blood was running hot too. Whiskey, not grappa or wine in his hand.

The scent of the alcohol seemed stir the fire. Not soften it or tame it, so much as pull it in another direction. A fire dragging in its own air, coaxing it instead of demanding with roars. A different sort of madness hidden in the burn of the blood.

How interesting that Bel didn’t know this before, but no one else had that inner fire torment them like Boss did. Like Bel did.

“Bel?” Boss asked, although only peasants wouldn’t know that. They lacked so very much including that fire. Peasants, _scum_.

Bel only laughed, even as Xanxus finished off his drink and sat the glass next to the bottle.

Bel blinked and he had poured himself a glass and downed it. The taste and feel was smooth and mellow but it burned. A different burn in his mouth, down his throat and it transformed the burn of his blood into something else. A pleasant sort of madness; Bel didn't want his knives for this, not even a little. That urge smothered before it could even cry and replaced by another. 

Boss was tall, much too tall for this to not be awkward but it was the burn in his blood demanded more. It would not be quenched with blood or alcohol but would have to burn itself out.

Kissing Xanxus was like starting a chemical fire. Something that wouldn’t be stopped by anything less than burning out. Lips and mouth held the bite of alcohol, a pleasant zing at counterpart to the burn.

Boss, his blood stirred took a single moment to pause. He issued a warning that set Bel’s nerves to crackling. This is when Bel is sure he is lost track of everything but enjoyment.

Bel is a Storm; he knows what he wants, so regrets are not his concern. His concern is getting what he wants, how he wants it.

Boss isn’t hesitant either, so suit jackets are lost to the floor in an instant, belts are loosened and hands are being put to clever uses.

The fire is such a pleasurable burn that neither cares to be overly generous or kind. It is all about want, take, greed and feeding that fire.

If Bel comes with spit-soaked fingers in him, that’s only used as lubrication for more taking. There’s a burning stretching sensation that Bel breathes through before he starts taking again.

Fingers leave marks on his hips as both are too much heat and need to do anything softly. That’s fine, as Bel thinks he has caused Xanxus to lose shirt buttons. He bites on exposed chest, leaving nail marks on shoulders. Bel tastes blood and enjoys the tang of it.

The pressure on his hips turns from bruising to crushing and then there’s a disorienting moment where Bel stops riding and starts being held down in place for nothing less than brutality.

Bel enjoys it, he knows he did because the fire is out and he’s in a pleasant fog. One that’s making him sleepy and feeling sore in a way that he’s reveling in.

Boss recovers faster but there’s a contentment but not peace to the blood at the moment; the blood never lets peace happen. He’s not gentle while cleaning up; using a torn linen table cloth soaked with whisky it is impossible to be, even to yourself much less another. Boss doesn’t spend long at it, just enough to clean up most of the evidence before burning the used linen.

Bel gets his suit jacket tossed at his face and just leaves it there, while he enjoys the fog.

He hears whiskey poured into a glass and the door pulled open and shut.

Bel just laughs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title of this is giving me Game of Throne type thoughts.
> 
> Also tumblr is clearly my current drafting space because why not? It's not like I don't have programs on my computer for that.


	8. Of the black lillies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuni is the Donna of the Giglio Nero; this means she makes her own choices.

One thing men never seem to expect: little girls grow up. They grow into women, with thoughts, desires and needs of their own beyond looking cute.

Men who loved the little girls that those women used to be are the _worst_.

Because they're patronizing and at one point it gets too annoying to bear. Maybe they rationalize it as teenage rebellion, instead of a series of attempt to change roles from girl-child to woman-grown.

Yuni was not a normal teenage girl to begin with but people tend to forget that. She was born to the mafia, had been nurtured by it since she was a child after those first few formative years in isolation so secret that most of her famiglia had no idea she existed. A precious Sky, the Boss' daughter. That's enough to be different from the norm. Then she was a Seer; a hereditary gift, passed on from mother to daughter that only grew stronger with age. That combination alone was enough to make her unique, except from her matrilineal relatives. Becoming the Sky Arcobaleno was much the same.

Surviving being such, well that's her position alone. Not that it was easy. Like how choosing a lover is very much her own choice. Not that that is easy either.

It's where seeing the future is very handy. Byakuran's a friend now, they could be content but not happy. Gamma loves her, but not because of who she actually is. Tsuna's a possibility but most things around Tsuna are exactly that; many many unrealized possibilities. Watching those is dizzying, for all that they're solidifying slowly.

She doesn't want a boyfriend. She has bodyguards to protect her already and fancy dinners are usually just business for her; not dates. She doesn't want a husband, one that's vowed to help her, cherish her and one that would say things for her she can't say as a woman. She doesn't want a fling, as too many of those would ruin her reputation and the little respect she has in the mafia. Those infuriating double-standards.

She wants a constant lover who doesn't want to take over the Giglio Nero through her, that doesn't want to dictate how she should act and behave, that doesn't want her dead, would be discreet and somehow still attentive.

People would think it would be Byakuran. They know each other, are both Skies, have powers beyond the norm, their famiglias are and were once allied to each other. A merger through their bloodlines is somewhat expected from both their famiglias.

The problem with that is somewhere between a multitude of alternates and a future that wasn't where she sacrificed herself, the idea is appealing as fucking her brother. Not that she has a brother, but the sentiment applies. One kiss was enough to prove that. Best for Byakuran to be her dear friend, her almost-brother.

Still, the Giglio Nero will need a Donna after her and parthenogenesis for people is possible, Byakuran assures her but maybe it's a sense of whimsy that she wants to be loved for children to occur. If not loved, then at least well-sexed.

Which led to Xanxus.

He's older than her, by a number of years physically. A lot more by the calendar, since she did take advantage of being Sky Arcobaleno before the Curse was broken so that she was at least a teenager then, if barely. It wasn't sacrificing years so much as pulling a version of her body from the future for her mind to inhabit; the pacifier remembers the Arcobaleno that died, which is why the Sky Arcobaleno's sacrifice can revive the others. There's lots of things that can be done with Harmony, especially when you have a rock that can control the axis of time and possibility; sure the cursed rock was killing her, but there were uses for it. Byakuran killing off the other Arcobaleno was the only reason she survived as long as she had since the time that the other Arcobaleno can spent as such was limited from the outset. This work-around at least let her be a teenager and once the Curse was broken, a woman-grown.

Xanxus wants the Vongola, not the Giglio Nero. He could care less about how she acts and what she does. He doesn't want her dead anymore than he wants anyone else bar a select few people. He pays attention when she's there and is discreet to a fault as an assassin without peer. He's even a Sky.

Convincing him to become her lover isn't easy even with the ability to see the future. At least that first time, he definitely didn't see her as a little delicate girl. He hadn't treated her as a precious princess. No, she was most certainly a woman then.

Yuni certainly loved it, loved the hidden bruises and bites. Loved being pushed against the wall in a room close enough that they could hear the music from the musicians of the social event through the wall. Loved how he had lifted her up and never relented as he pushed her to the edge, once on his shoulders as he licked, once on his hips, the last with a twist of fingers and his voice alone before she had even recovered from the previous two. He left the room to allow her to recover, but stood guard outside the door.

Repeats were most certainly required.

Further encounters are just as heated and passionate. Some are more than just brief, lasting until morning with a languid last encounter before separating while others are exactly that. Xanxus has very talented fingers and she bit him as she came in that hallway. It was too much sensation and not nearly enough, earlier.

She knows he knows that too; it burned in his eyes that he does.

Yuni waits all-day at the Vongola's Iron Fort for the next encounter and is disappointed. The most annoying part of being a seer is the lack of measurement; just because she sees it doesn't mean that it's not next month or next year.

She hopes its next year or the year after even. She sees the possibilities but it's hard to tell the difference between fantasies and possibilities at times. The reality is there's too many little variables to control it all. She's not a control freak like Byakuran, for all that she has those same impulses; Yuni has self-control. She wants to live, to do, to experience instead of just see and there's little she won't do for that. She's selfish like that, but not too much. She has self-control.

Enough to not scream when a scarred hand covers her mouth and another is alarmingly warm against her neck.

The voice is deep, far softer than his usual but no less masculine. "So are you planning to toss me aside after I've preformed your stud service?"

Yuni tells her ovaries to settle down but it's far too late; she's aroused again.

"I'm pregnant?" She asks instead. Her menstrual cycle was mostly regular; at most she was only a few days late. Considering how their affair was mostly sex over any conversation... yes, attentive was certainly a word for that focus and intensity. "I've bled as much as two-weeks late, when I wasn't sexually active."

That's true, but that happened in the defunct future back when her cycle was starting. He however doesn't need to know that.

"So it's only a possibility." He confirmed and her throat felt much cooler.

"The Giglio Nero have a different view about bastards and wedlock than most. We don't have to worry about wild seeds cropping up."

"Mother's baby, daddy's maybe?" He quoted.

"We are the Giglio Nero for a reason." Yuni demurred, leaning back against hard muscle. There's a lingering trace of some scent that's masculine and smoky but it's not strong enough for her to identify. "Matrilineal inheritances are easier for proving blood-ties for all that there are other problems but those are from outside influences and their ego, not the system."

Xanxus didn't say anything but he didn't push her away. He wasn't exactly holding her, but that could change.

"If, would you?" She asked, curious.

"Maybe. It's not like a bastard that's not blood-related has marriage prospects." Or any inheritance to give to their children beyond money and a bad reputation. He said this without inflection, but it was so bitter a sentiment. The lack of anger was worse, as he sounded tired.

The problem, Yuni could see even without seeing the future, with Nono claiming Xanxus as his child and letting everyone believe it meant any woman that married him would be wanting part of the Vongola for their children, or at least a claim on it. Which Xanxus couldn't give. In other words, if Xanxus married, had children, grandchildren and so on, they'd be a perpetual problem for the Vongola.

Because of a small act of kindness, claiming a child his son. Saying otherwise now wouldn't be believed. Besides, if you see enough about the future, you can discover parts of the past and she was no longer hampered by the Curse of the Sky Arcobaleno. It was obvious that Xanxus loved the Vongola, more so than he did her. He was willing to kill her after all.

"If not, the Giglio Nero have a tradition of choosing dangerous men as godfathers. Uncle Reborn for instance. A situation such as ours wouldn't be the first. I should be calling him something other than Uncle." Yuni admitted; the Giglio Nero had excellent forgers and the Donna of the Giglio Nero was more often than not, a widow or quietly married within the famiglia. She was sure he understood the implications.

"Rumors about me controlling the Giglio Nero." He said instead.

"And here I am, too 'innocent' use my feminine wiles on you."

He scoffed at that. "I doubt that you've been 'innocent' since you first had the Sky Pacifier. Mammon knows exactly how old you are, how old you looked at your mother's funeral. You looked some years older than that during the representative battles. You had your reasons."

It went unsaid that Xanxus knew that too. He was also well-versed enough in psychology, politics and the mafia to know exactly why as well. Gamma and others needed to see her six-year old self, but Byakuran and Tsuna needed an older version. Not an adult version of herself and only a year or two younger than the age she had been when she 'died' in that future. It was acceptable as a trade-off and kept the Giglio Nero cohesive after her mother died earlier than she usually did. It worked and gained the Giglio Nero powerful allies, in the form of the future Decimo.

And if she happened to manipulate things so that she could at least experience being a teenager instead of dying as a child and then before she was thirteen, well that was her own reward. Her sacrifice in that defunct future was well worth-it.

"Cradle-robber." Yuni replied, without heat. She didn't snuggle into him, put she ran a hand down his leg, feeling supple and warm leather.

"But the Giglio Nero have excellent forgers." He said instead, echoing earlier thoughts. "According to them, we're close enough in age for that not to be true. Donna Aria of the Giglio Nero was just a cousin."

"That is what the papers say," she admitted. She tugged on the leather.

"And how far did you see when it came to breaking the Curse?"

"Some centuries, at least. Reference points are hard to find sometimes and the Curse made it more difficult to interpret but are you asking for Mammon?"

"Us. Her, maybe him. Those after." He sighed, brushing a hand down towards her stomach but no lower as it rested there. There were explanations for those words but Yuni didn't quite care to piece those implications out at the moment.

"Still so convinced?" She tugged on the leathers again; he was being stubborn but so was she. He however was in his uniform and she was in her nightclothes, the flimsy silk and dark embroidery covering the essentials but little more. He still had his tie on, loose as it was.

"What do you See in the next few months?"

Well if he was going to be like that, then she'd snuggle into him as she humored him. Finding references for time was an art-form, as was actually focusing on her immediate future. Images flickered, symbols were inferred and... the timing wasn't quite... she and he had a number of beautiful possibilities.

"Not quite yet, I think. Not that such a thing is set in stone." More that the conception was likely to be tonight or in the morning if things worked out that way... Her own child. She'd get to be a mother, one that wouldn't pass on a Curse that would kill her child like her own grandmother and mother did.

"Yet you certainly seem insistent."

"You're in my bedroom, I have been wanting you all day and I'm," she spun and grabbed the tie. "I am fresh out of patience." She tugged on the tie, enough to make her point even more clear.

He picked her up and swooped her into a bridal carry quite easily and then let her drop onto her bed. She glared at him, watching as the shirt buttons were undone, tie set aside on the bed without thought, boots unlaced and socks neatly placed inside boots. She couldn't see much of him, yet, since his back was turned. He then stood up and quietly padded over to the vanity.

Then the weapon harness came off, his guns and extra ammo placed side by side of her make-up. His uniform jacket and the button up came off as if they were one article of clothing, placed on the back of a chair. His back was broad, scarred and proof that despite whatever fickle of fate had resulted in Xanxus, he was certainly beautiful in his own alluring way and Yuni was willingly entranced.

More so as he started peeling the rest of his uniform off. Beautiful, powerful muscles were revealed as he turned and used her vanity chair as a laundry rack. More and more skin was revealed as well, some dark with scars, some firm and supple but it was all delectable and darker than her own.

Yuni swallowed as he turned around, because it wasn't like he was stripping for her. The feathers and fur still curling around his neck made him appear as if he was some wild god willing to partake of a maiden in the night.

Maybe in another world, that would be truer but Yuni was at her core, selfish and unwilling to wait any longer. She lunged for him, hating the fact he was so tall at the moment. She couldn't quite reach his lips, so she settled for running teeth and lips over his neck. And then she bit down, on his collar bone, knowing that it would leave a mark.

He didn't hiss but he at least lowered himself enough for their lips to touch in a brief kiss. Xanxus went for her neck as he pushed her backwards.

Yuni reached her hands around his neck and pulled him forward. He caught himself before all of his weight fell on her, but as he started pushing himself back up she managed to convince him to fall on his back on her bed.

She was impatient and demanding and she wanted to ride him before a later round had her fucked senseless. She could even pay him back for leaving her for yearning all day for a continuation.

Actually, that sounded like a very good plan, and would be if Xanxus was cooperative. He likely would be, but the fact that she had taken control would mean he would want to reestablish his own dominance in the bedroom later; she would be so sore, but it would be so worth it.

"Stay down," she commanded, holding him down with an arm on his chest as she maneuvered around on her bed. Feeling the silk of his tie under a hand she fisted it as she crawled onto Xanxus. She perched on him feeling, more than seeing the length of his erection. A hand had reached under her nightgown to pet skin and she lightly smacked it.

Xanxus mockingly held up his hands in mock-surrender as he let Yuni dictate how things were going to go this time.

Using the tie to wrap his wrists together surprised him.

Yuni didn't tie the tie tight around them, or very securely; it was too short for that. But the bound hands made for a good place so she could leverage the rest of her frame up without issue. Then she slowly sunk herself down, breathing deeply as she settled feeling the heat and length of him.

She took a moment to enjoy the sensation before she started moving, rocking hips slowly at first and then using the bound hands as a brace so she could move up and down more freely.

This was almost what she had been waiting for all day. Nearly; the rest would come later. Sooner, if how Xanxus' eyes were looking was accurate. Her room had been dimly-lit, so the pupils should have been larger than what they were. Instead, his eyes looked as if they glowed red and that he was about to devour her in all the ways he could.

Yes, she would most certainly be fucked senseless later, but for now, for now, she was going to ride her hips on his, while finding something more interesting to do with a spare hand before she got to close to remember why she was doing something.

Her spare hand went under the folds of her night gown, to the center of her legs, to play. A few moments of that and she was breathing a lot harder and not just because of what she was doing or the effects she could see it having on Xanxus.

Slim fingers touched around the base of his cock, merely resting there as Yuni drove herself down in another plunge. Then she raised herself up, adjusted the angel of her hand and lowered herself onto him and her first two fingers.

Xanxus cursed, while Yuni let herself adjust to the extra intrusions inside of her. A thumb of that hand brushing across a certain bundle of nerves kept her breathing heavy as heat within her womb built. The next rise was excruciatingly slow, but it made her lover keep swearing, especially as she brought herself down again.

Yuni then lost all sense of restraint and started riding him and her fingers in earnest, her hips meeting his. Some wildness in her took charge and then Yuni remembered her climaxing and the loose tie's bonds breaking, so that she ended up face down on her matress, riding her hand, then his fingers instead of hers and his cock.

She lost track of time, of possibilities and any sense of properity or responsibility. She was wild for satisfaction and in this regard, she was most glad for her choice in lovers.

Yuni felt his own climax happen, one which would at least settle the both of them down enough for a more languid enjoyment later.

He kept his weight off of her, rolling to the side in a way that momentum carried her back on top of him.

She rest on top of him long enough to regain her sense and to feel him harden once again. The tangles of the future had sorted themselves out.

Conception, she was going to be a mother.

"It's a girl," she murmured.

He stiffened around her, suddenly rigid.

"A Sky, like her parents. Wild and kind and ferocious. The edge of ruthless pragmatism, needed for a Donna when she's older. She's going to look a lot like me, dark hair, delicate features. Deep purple eyes, instead of blue. Less temper than yours, but undeniably your daughter."

"The name?" He asked. "Unless its my choice?"

"We have months to decide that." She replied. "I'd rather avoid my family names. Luce brings too many memories for the former Arcobaleno. Aria's much too recent a name to use. Sephira, Maria, Serefina, Serena, Elena, Phoebe... those names are out."

"I suppose being a 'sea urchin' means that you want a more local name."

Yuni scowled at her name; her name had been Romanized from the Japanese word meaning such. "No flower names either."

"Lyssa. It's Greek." He suggested after a moment.

The name reminded her of something, so she followed the thought. "Also the godess of madness who drove men insane, if I remember the tales of Herakles correctly."

"It's not like you have to claim it as such; Melissa and she's a 'bee' or even Lisa as short for Elizabeth. Just a different spelling. My ma changed how mine was spelled, compared to how it was pronounced. Changed a syllable to another 'X' so my name would have two of them."

"And which language was that?" Because as Yuni knew, Xanxus wasn't a local name; it was very unique.

"Greek, I suppose. Xanthus, means yellow or fair-haired. Also a river god in the Trojan War who tried to kill Achilles, before Paris got the shot in. The god of the river Scamander, known by Xanthus to the gods. Could be Persian, but there's a different meaning there for all that the spelling can match; it's not like names have to be known as names to become someone's name."

He did have a point there. Yuni's name was an example, as was Squalo's, and the other Arcobaleno. None of their names were what people thought of as actual names, not even Gamma or so many others. A number of people in the mafia abandoned their old names in favor of others.

"No wonder you get so annoyed when people think your name is some form of Alexander."

"My ma was blonde, and apparently I was once upon a time if she named me that. Apparently it fell out and came back dark."

Yuni tried to imagine Xanxus with blond hair. She just couldn't see it. Not a golden blond, but one of those pale platinum blonds. That was possible, she supposed. It would suit almost as well as the black.

He smirked at her, as he ran a hand down her.

"So, are we back-dating documents or just ignoring them entirely?"

"Back-dating works." Yuni replied. "Legitimacy is always a good thing to have, really. We can pay Mammon to be our witness."

"And the issues with the Vongola and my own bloodline?"

"That's less of an issue." Yuni replied, hoping he didn't press it further.

"Because of only one heir to take over the Giglio Nero?"

"I suppose we could stop at one, although that would mean no Xanatos or Aurelius." Yuni responded, knowing from what she could See of her possible future children. Laughing, clever Xanatos who always benefitted even from his failures. Bright, ruthless Aurelius who was his father's blond double down to the feel and characteristic signature of their Flames.

Yuni wanted them. She'd have them.

"That means you have Vongola blood, if that's not an issue." He kissed her wrist on the pulse point; she was certain he felt it spike.

"The Giglio Nero have always had impeccable forgers, but we know who we're related to and how closely. Vongola Settimo had a fair number of sons die young, but not as virgins."

Which was something of the truth, but not entirely so. It also implied that she was more distantly related than she actually was.

She was very glad that Xanxus wasn't related to Timoteo of the Vongola; she'd rather not fuck her uncle.

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Was talking to Adel Mortescryche about the fem!Byakuran fic she's doing which inspired the idea. Also ended up discussing Yuni later with Umei no Mai and that changed a little of this.
> 
> It also explained Yuni's choices in the future and now I like her. Because I'm apparently incapable of liking nice people who sacrifice themselves for others but fine with those that are more amoral and selfish.


	9. A little business with pleasure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Squalo gets the weekend off and Dino's horny; now if things were really only that simple.

Squalo thinks it's rather telling about them that Dino doesn't even call him to say, "I'm horny."

It's not like a text is that difficult either, but it is however evidence. Evidence which could get the Cavallone Don into quite a lot of trouble with his wife. Yeah, political and self-arranged match and all that, but the man had an heir and his wife had soured on him with all the work that being the head of the third largest famiglia of the alliance demanded. Made no sense to Squalo; she knew what she was getting into. Dino would have been upfront about that.

Thankfully Yamamoto Takeshi hasn't quite figured out that he's being used as a middle-man so Dino can get fucked as hard as the masochist wants.

Then again, it's hard to figure out, "I want fucked so hard that I can't think" from "Dino said he'd like you to come visit." Usually with some mostly plausible excuse tacked on.

Squalo and Dino have always mixed a little business in with their pleasure. Made it sweeter. Not as teens when they were in school, as Squalo basically ignored everyone in favor of the sword, but later? Seventeen had been a good time for them both -Dino standing on his own, mostly and Squalo being a little impressed that Dino had ventured to the Varia, hired them and then gone and fucking watched as Squalo and Bel had slaughtered their way through some sixty people that the young Don wanted gone in a bloody example.

Squalo had been young then, his bloodlust sated and that left a more physical lust burning as he climbed into a waiting limo with Dino, leaving Bel to take Varia transportation.

Car sex wasn't what he had had planned, but Dino was good at derailing plans. Not that it was actual penetrative sex, but if Dino hadn't been a natural at sucking cock then that night would have gone a lot differently. As it was, Squalo left bloodstains from other corpses on the seats, ripped part of the leather with his fake hand and come far too quickly by his standards.

Dino is very fond of that vehicle, for sentimental reasons and Squalo will be glad when the older limo is finally retired permanently. Cavallone's fucking ridiculously sentimental.

As it is, Squalo just nods at what the other swordsman says and wanders on up to Xanxus' office. Xanxus is there, typing and scowling at a laptop. An old fashioned store-calculator is being tapped on absentmindedly, little numbers printed on the growing length of paper coming from the top.

Squalo knocks on the office's door frame as he enters and then arranges himself on the couch that Xanxus keeps in here, as if Xanxus isn't capable of sleeping anywhere. The saints know that the couch is far from the most comfortable thing in the office, but sitting on the floor is silly and the desk is in use -both of which were more comfortable than the damn couch.

"So Cavallone sent his booty messenger?" Xanxus asks, as he looks between the numbers on the calculator and on the screen. His scowl gets even darker though.

Squalo nods. "Numbers not right?"

"Too similar to account for growth, fluctuations in business and too reptitive for human error if you look over the past five years," Xanxus relents. "Embezzlement's possible, but I think they're lying. Fucking assholes. Mammon will enjoy finding out."

Squalo nods again, knowing that Mammon will find out. Xanxus will get to do something like crucify some CEOs or send their home up in flames or something to vent that he's lost fucking money on stocks that were worthless because some people failed to do their jobs. He and Mammon like to have bonding time over doing creepy shit to people who cost them money like that. "Shitheads," is all that Squalo says to that.

"Go fuck Cavallone. I can do without you for a weekend. I know how to use a phone after all." His Boss grumbles the bit at the end, pulls his own out and sends a text. To Mammon probably.

Squalo gets out of the office and tries not to think what the now adult-shaped Mammon and Boss might get up to; it's probably gonna be creepy horror movie-worthy business terrorism or something with a dash of murder. If a CEO or whoever was lying and shit, Boss would give Mammon free reign to steal all of it. Which Mammon would after whatever pay-period happened. Just for that little bit more. Also after selling off the majority of the stock previously so whatever fallout would earn that little bit more in such a way that wouldn't scream 'insider trading.'

Greedy miser.

A greedy miser that looks far too sleepy as Squalo passes Mammon in the halls. The yawn was cute, but that didn't quite change the fact it looked like Mammon had tossed on yesterday's clothing and was walking gingerly. Squalo tries not to think about who Mammon had been with, physically or not; fucking Mists could have some _realistic_ fantasies.

And there was the scent of sex that explained that conclusion, as Squalo works through the Mist-interference in his brain to smell it. Boss would probably have to pay extra to get Mammon out of bed, if it didn't involve money already invested.

Squalo would have looked similar enough coming back except Squalo's packed a change of clothing, some lube and even condoms in advance for situations like this. It wasn't like this wasn't something that hadn't happened semi-regularly since they were seventeen for fuck's sake. Considering he's got the weekend, he adds some more actual clothing to the pack. There's enough lube in that container considering it's practically new but he tosses some more condoms in, including ones that would fit Dino's dick. Squalo pauses for another moment, packs in a few toys. He's got the weekend off after all. They could fit that in.

So Squalo ends up at the Cavallone estate in time for lunch, even as Dino runs numbers through his office as well. It's not tax time, but yeah, the last Fiscal Quarter just closed and so the numbers are out for those important enough to get those numbers. As for going over them... well that's what good business people do.

Dino's at least good at conversation and has a good vintage for relaxing with. A nice white to go with the seafood for lunch. Romario's doing probably. If there's one man that knows about everything about his and Dino's relationship, it's Romario. Squalo tries to be nice to the older man, exactly because he knew too much and he wasn't allowed or willing to kill him. Without Romario, the Cavallone would have sunk and Dino would die getting dressed in the morning.

Dino's usually chatty while running numbers, so the silence and coffee's a bit unusual. Dino rarely drinks coffee, preferring some sort of tea or fizzy drink so the coffee is a bad sign and says Dino's focusing on this.

"Numbers not adding up?"

"Not exactly. Just a feeling that the numbers are off somehow."

"Boss was thinking the same for some company. I didn't ask as that's Mammon's territory, but if you both..." Squalo leaves off there and shrugs. "But you'd have to call and ask."

Maybe Squalo's just a little spiteful that Dino's been using a messenger since he got engaged and married. Nearly four years now without those silly when-ever texts, the rambling of fiscal details that go over Squalo's head and put him to sleep when Dino gets into the minutiae and Squalo not doing impulsive buys and sending pictures of ridiculous things he's seen while traveling.

He's a bit sick of being used like this, but the mafia uses everyone. This is at least a pleasurable use.

"That's the thing. It's my wife's."

There's a lot of things that go through Squalo's head at that which amount to a lot of foul language, the likely hood that it could be a coincidence and what it would mean for the Cavallone, Dino and his wife. And her company. It's rather cringe-worthy all together.

"Are you supposed to have that data?" Squalo asks instead.

Dino shrugs, which Squalo takes to mean yes, he's not supposed to have it but a little corporate spying never hurt. Mafia and all that, for all that Dino's more a business mogul with mafia trappings.

Dino of course chooses this moment to stand up and trip on his shoelaces or something and to fall into Squalo's lap in the process of trying to walk. Squalo saved the wine glass and bottle from shattering on the floor; their empty plates weren't so lucky with Dino's pinwheeling arms.

Of course the sound of broken plates brings one of the Cavallone men into the office, so they get to see Dino bringing his face out of Squalo's lap. Squalo would say something corny and provocative but Dino decided that placing a hand over his mouth was wise. Squalo bites there and shakes his head a bit. Dino's eyes are wide and he regains his hand almost as soon as Squalo stops applying bite pressure.

Dino's up and apologizing to everyone but all it means is that Dino and Squalo have an excuse to leave Dino's office for his room. Office sex is good, but it's no good for a prolonged fuck like Squalo knows that Dino wants. Dino does have a wife after all, but women do tend to lack the equipment and inclination to fuck Dino.

Squalo takes the wineglass with him as they walk to Dino's room; if nothing else, it's a good vintage. Not too sweet. His little pack for the weekend had long been passed off to Romario, so he knows that the clothing will be in his usual guest room and the smaller pack with it's other contents will be in Dino's room somewhere obvious. Romario probably does not deserve Squalo's attempts to be nice -he's terrible at it- but it's little things like that which make him want to at least try.

Once they cross the threshold of the door and Squalo absentmindedly kicks the door closed, the mood is entirely changed. Squalo spies his usual small pack on the couch, so Squalo heads for that and situates himself.

For all that Dino is the Don of the Cavallone and has been for years, Squalo can command him, here and now. So he does, wine glass in hand, uniform still on.

"Strip."

First Dino loses that hideous green coat he's fond of wearing whenever it gets cool enough for it, while toeing off his shoes. Proper Italian leather shoes, so Dino didn't trip on his laces, or the thin socks that get haphazardly stuffed in one of them. Dino can trip on anything though.

Next, Dino loses the tie, picks up his shoes and tosses the lot towards the wall behind him. The shirt slowly is opened, button by button and slides off arms that have tattoos so dense that there's no skin left un-inked now -Dino's been expanding on them for years. Dino spins around to toss the shirt, showing off all the ones on his back.

There's a new tattoo on his right ribs, Squalo notes. One with fine lines, good color saturation and lots of details. Piece must have taken more than a few sessions, he notes.

The the belt comes off and that unlike the rest of the clothing is tossed in the direction of the bed. Squalo fights a smirk as he realizes what sort of mood Dino's in. If Dino wants whipped later, Squalo could do that and enjoy it. That's good.

That suits him perfectly. Squalo could certainly use that belt later. Maybe tonight. Squalo's not one for planning every detail of how his weekend is going to go. Beyond a lot of sex.

Dino's just in his boxers, his feelings about this perfectly clear. Hard to mistake that large a bulge for anything else. Any size queen would love Dino, but Dino's never preferred fucking to being fucked and dominated -might explain why they've been carrying on since his wife had the little foal in her belly after nearly two years without. Then those boxers are shimmied off, Dino nearly loses his balance again and Squalo's eyes track the bob and weave of what juts from Dino's hips.

They've done this enough that there's something of a ritual and Dino wants to get to his part. That is the part where Dino goes and puts his mouth to use until Squalo's cummed once and he can last so much longer when he gets around to putting the lube and condoms to use.

Except, Squalo's not in the mood for that; too scripted to Dino's tastes. He's got the weekend off, Dino's wife is away as she always is during their sexual interludes. He might fuck her husband in their bed sometimes, but at least the sheets are clean before and after. Romario really does deserve something nice for that courtesy.

"No," he commands. "Watch," he clarifies. Squalo undoes his own belt and frees himself, wine sitting to the side now. He keeps the gloves on, but daubs on a little lube pulled from a pocket in his pack. Yes, he thinks, as he flexes his fingers in a fluttery pattern, swirling towards the head. He was going to fuck Dino as hard as Cavallone could take it -just not when, according to Dino's script.

Dino hasn't been idle either, one hand around his own dick and the other playing with his ass. The good thing about Yamamoto playing messenger and the distance to travel means that Dino's had plenty of time to prepare himself. Squalo's willing to bet that Dino's got a plug back there. The way Dino reacts as the less visible hand moves proves it.

"Good boy," Squalo praises. Dino's praise-kink is lovely, Squalo knows. A few choice words and his dick is hard as a rock. That was a memory of past days; these past three or four years, it's mostly been Squalo fucking him into bliss, then past that and into a boneless puddle of a Don that likes to cuddle. It is getting rather boring for all that the great parts are still that.

Fuck, watching Dino fuck himself never gets old. The noises, the little intakes of breath, the sight of it all. The gold hair, how his eyes flickered in self-pleasure, the muscle control needed for a weapon like the whip being shown off.

Squalo works himself over, nice firm strokes as he imagines and knows what Dino will be like under him as Squalo drives him from on his knees to a shuddering mess. Dino's fluffy blond hair spread out on the sheets, tracing all those tattoos with his tongue. It's gonna be beautiful.

It's the anticipation that gets him moving his hand faster and his breath coming faster. He takes a hand and brings his fingers back and forth in an unmistakable silent order of 'come here.'

Dino takes a few moments to scramble over on his knees and then his mouth is on Squalo and his tongue is playing with the slit when his teeth aren't scrapping skin. Dino is the best at this that Squalo's ever had and it shows as Dino knows how to get him off so fast and how to prolong it until Squalo's cursing him.

But as Dino really wants that long hard fuck and he has his own little part in providing it, so Squalo knows it's best to have gotten off at least once so a little encouragement goes a long way. That way Squalo can fuck Dino through a few orgasms without cumming again, with the help of a few tricks.

And like the born cocksucker Dino is, Squalo's deep in the man's throat and has his hands in blond hair and is feeling the signs of impending orgasm. Squalo starts thrusting and then that's it, there it is and Squalo has to take a moment to breathe and recover. The lethargy he ignores, the bliss of endorphins is enjoyed for the moment it takes him to get his breath back and then his hand is on his over-sensitive dick.

Which he coats with Rain Flames.

It reduces his sensitivity, letting him last longer once they finally progress to penetrative sex. Storm and Lightning Flames are useless for sex -not unless you need to shave or liked getting shocked with electricity and not many people are fond of electrical shocks. Suns are great for quickies, for getting to orgasm as quick as possible and repeatedly. Clouds if they have a mind to, could do the same by making more happy chemicals hit the brain all at once leading to the most intense sensations without all the build-up. Mists were also like that but they tended to get a lot kinkier. Rains however are great at going strong for as long as they want or need to. A little less sensation on the Rain's part but when you can fuck someone for over half an hour, the steady build of pleasure and sensitivity as the Flames wore off was worth it. Time and duration had a certain quality and charm of its own. The trick was not to over-do it with Rain Flames or there was a risk of getting soft in the middle of fucking and that was a damn shame.

It's going to be a short recovery period, Squalo can already tell. Best to slow that down so he could make sure that Dino was adequately prepared. He slips off his uniform jacket.

"On your knees," Squalo orders, another gesture telling him to spin a bit.

Squalo placed the wine glass he had set aside on Dino's back, nudging a knee so Dino holds the glass and its contents level up near Dino's shoulders. And then Squalo slides down and around and looks at all the beautiful ink before him. The Cavallone crest is inked large upon Dino's back and Dino shivers as Squalo's hair falls around them.

Squalo traces the outline of a horse with his mechanical hand, breathes out. The moment over with, he opens up the bit of lube he'd carried in with him, lubes up a finger or two or really, just his whole gloved hand because the lube is slick and slides a finger into Dino without removing the plug.

Dino sucks in breath and releases it in a moan as Squalo decides to move his hand.

"That's perfect, take that in." Squalo says, adding another finger and awkwardly moving the toy from the inside. Dino seems to enjoy it though, the full-body shiver saying as much.

Squalo adds another dose of Rain Flames to his dick as soon as he's truly hard again. Adding a condom is a bit of overkill in the sensory dissonance but one UTI is enough to kill the thought of barebacking it.

He plays a bit more with the toy and his fingers, before finally removing the toy and tossing it somewhere towards Dino's clothes pile. He snatches the wine glass, downs the last of its contents and sends it rolling on its way. Dino drops down to his elbows, and breathes a sigh of relief and nudges his ass towards Squalo.

"What a greedy Don you are, Cavallone." Squalo purrs, dumping more of the silicone lube on his hand. Water based never lasted long enough for a Rain that knew what they were doing, but there was nothing ever wrong about ensuring that everything felt good. Using more than just a little Rain Flame on someone's ass was a good way to make sure they felt nothing during the time they were being fucked but that didn't mean that they wouldn't feel the effects of being fucked raw and dry later. Which wasn't fun at all to consider, since that was just asking for some form of septic shock like blood-infection.

A few fingers later, Dino's as prepped as he's ever going to be and Squalo slides into Dino's ass. The feeling of it is muted through the rubber and Flames but it still feels _good_. The sort of muted pleasure that means Squalo can keep up a steady rhythm that strokes all those spots on the inside; the sort of steady rhythm with enough finesse that Dino had once said that Squalo fucked like he fought -perfect technical precision, full of passion and unpredictability.

Dino comes within a minute and leaves a mess on the floor but Squalo reaches a hand around with a small does of Rain Flames, so Dino can enjoy the heady chemicals rushing towards his head without any over sensitivity causing any pain -this time. Dino moans as Squalo rubs him back to a half-hardness, even as Squalo fucking Dino's ass at a slow pace, rolling his hips.

Dino swears, as Squalo's determined not to let Dino have his way exactly as he wants it. Insubordinate of him, but much more fun.

Squalo goes slow and plays with angles in such a way that Dino's moans hit different notes even as Dino tries to string a coherent series of words together -probably to tell him to stop teasing. Squalo's not going to let that happen, so he leans over, letting hair brush and drape over Cavallone's back.

And then Squalo takes a hand, pulls it off the floor and takes it to Dino's nipple. A little bit of play there has beneficial effects; Dino stops with words beyond the simple ones and obscene noises. Squalo hasn't stopped with his thrusts either, but his arm isn't straining yet so Squalo has time to savor. The lines of the tattoo on Dino's back look as inviting as always and Squalo sees no reason not to indulge.

He slows his thrusts here, because Squalo's inner perfectionist isn't going to allow Squalo to mess up on following the lines of the Cavallone crest writ large.

Dino manages to regain some coherence, thrusting back so Squalo writes off tonguing the entire crest as a bad job for now and gets back to work. A little business with their pleasure and all that. Squalo has the weekend off; a little business with their pleasure is par the course.

Squalo changes things up so he's hitting Dino's prostate every time now and then Dino's cumming soon after. Squalo changes hands and his balance so he can jerk the rest of Dino's release out and doesn't bother to numb any over-sensitivity here this time. Dino loves that sort of pleasure so sharp it hurts feeling. Squalo can feel it from root to tip buried in Dino as Dino's Flames practically purr with _wantwantwant_.

A moment of thought and Squalo decides that they could one use more lube -anal is no fun without it and too little is worse than too much- and for two change position, so the swordsman takes advantage of the nearby couch and bends Dino over it. This puts Squalo back closer to where he put the lube down and means that Squalo's angle is going to be different. Maybe after he's done here on the couch, he'll take Cavallone up against the wall, Dino's ankles up over his shoulders.

More to the point, Squalo doesn't have to balance his weight on his arms, so is far more free to use them. Dino's weak points are well known to Squalo so he plans on dragging a few 'dry' orgasms out from Dino. The pleasant numbness is starting to wear off on his part, but Squalo knows from experience that the start of feeling more than a vaguely pleasant sensation is not the sign of Rain Flames fading so immediately; that's a gradual thing. Maybe twenty or so minutes to go.

Squalo takes a moment, considers and pulls Dino's head back, one arm braced on the the couch as he takes Dino hard as he dares. This angle is a lot better for him, as he can nibble and gnaw on Dino's neck and shoulders. Dino wears enough clothing to hide all of the marks anyway, but Squalo tries to be considerate. Sometimes. Mostly.

Dino's words are slurring and incoherent, mostly lost to moans and grunts and hisses. Squalo really likes that Dino can't say anything; the Don's too chatty and cheerful for Squalo to want to engage in something like after-sex-talk. During's not so bad, but after it makes Squalo want to take sharp steel to him. He prefers the cuddling, really.

"That's it," Squalo says in what passes for a whisper. "Take it all, that's good."

Dino's response is more of a moan than anything understandable beyond the fact his dick decided to make itself erect again.

Squalo takes the hand closest to it and strokes, once, twice. "Want more?"

Dino says his name but anything else is unintelligible because Squalo hit Dino's prostate in rapid succession.

"Want me to stroke you off?" Squalo asks instead.

Dino nods as much as Squalo's grip on his hair allows, as he creaks out a yes.

"Good choice," Squalo allows, as his hand wraps around the large dick and strokes in just the way Dino loves it. Squalo hums an evil sounding little tune he picked up from Bel and then bites down on Dino's neck.

Dino reacts as beautifully as always, bucking and breathless with the force of his orgasm. Dino slumps against the couch and Squalo takes the moment to add a little more lube. If he's going to take Dino against the wall, Dino was going to be as slick as Squalo wanted him to be.

Decisions, decisions... impatient as Squalo knows he is, he also knows that he's not going to get stimulated enough to reach his own orgasm within the next fifteen or so minutes. Rain Flames; good for augmenting staying power, less so for stimulation.

Squalo makes use of Dino's praise kink, his masochistic tendencies and general health to have Dino erect and ready to go again. And then Squalo just fucks him, holding tight at the hips; nothing fancy, no rolling his hips -just hitting Dino's prostate with every single stroke. This was a sort of mindlessness of its own, made more pleasurable as Rain Flames slowly let more and more sensation through to Squalo. This was the sort of mindlessness that Dino loved, that lets Dino forget all his stresses and just be.

Dino's next orgasm surprises Squalo; there's a pleasurable haze that the shock of it just slices through it and that's how Squalo knows that whatever Rain Flames he had used was down to just dregs, if potent ones. His dick feels hard still but the condom feels as if he's leaked enough pre-cum to fill it.

Squalo takes the moment to pull out and replace the condom as a matter of course; it didn't look torn surprisingly, but no reason not to be careful since condoms could easily break from extended use. They did that and they did it more when the rubber was older or been exposed to heat like that of Sicily's climate. One UTI was embarrassing enough.

Then he takes a few moments to look at the panting Cavallone Don; red marks staining shoulder and neck, golden skin and hips that would probably bruise from the pressure of Squalo's hands and the darker skin around a wide hole that was shiny and slick with lube.

It's an arousing sight, Squalo thinks. His dick certainly thinks so. Thankful, Dino takes him in without complaint; instead there's this little whine, one too high-pitched for a whimper.

Dino's solidly built, but Squalo's not weak enough that he can't hold Dino against the wall, Dino's ankles somewhere around his ears. Due to position, Squalo can't really drive him into the wall like he could the couch but shorter thrusts mean more stimulation to an already sore prostate.

Dino's groan of 'more' is more than welcomed, so Squalo provides it. He fucks Dino into his sixth or so orgasm of the day -and Squalo gets his second as Dino writhes against him and the wall. His legs feel a little unsteady but he knows that they'll hold and that he can walk on them. So he drops himself and Dino on Dino's bed and waits for his own head to clear a bit. Takes a few minutes but the man next to him is too out of it to even try to cuddle at the moment.

Dino by now is all but mindless, but very sated and he made a mess on Squalo's uniform. That's easy enough to clean off, since the uniform had been designed to repel bodily fluids. A wet rag -technically some sort of wipe that Luss swears by- and it comes clean. Another rag wipes Dino down and cleans up the lube that's leaking. Dino's slowly coming back to himself, drunk off of pleasure and the sort of smugness that can only happen to those who were well and truly fucked. Now Dino wants to cuddle but it's not like Dino's his Don; he could be insubordinate to the Don's wishes.

As coherence seeps in, Squalo decides that he's going to go to his room and get as prepared as he could. Including telling Dino, that he has the weekend off.

"Hey," he says as low and soft as he could, "I've got the weekend off and I'm going to ride you until your eyes roll back in your head and pass out. And then I'm going to ride you some more. But you've got Don Cavallone things to do and I've got to get prepared for that."

Dino snaps out of the fuzzy lassitude, hope and joy being obvious. It's very much anticipation on Dino's face.

Because fucking Dino is a lot different from being fucked by Dino -it's not something they usually manage, so the rarity of has its own allure. Squalo's a bit of a masochist but he's not going to let that thing in him without extensive preparation. The sort that would involve using his toys on himself until he's stretched out again. He needs his legs functioning and a burning asshole is not conductive to that, Rain Flames or not. All Rain Flames do is remove the sensation of pain and sooth inflammation; it doesn't heal and frankly Squalo would prefer not to have Luss sticking a finger there, because of internal damage or something.

Just no.

So with a smirk, Squalo tosses a blanket at Dino who is looking like he's fighting off nap-time and leaves for his guest room.

And maybe, Squalo can enjoy his weekend off as much as he wants to; he has a good feeling about it. Friday's not over yet after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part 1 of probably whatever. Not sure when I'll write the rest but have what's here now. May eventually turn into story on its own. Did not mean to write this, but... this is what happened. An attack of plot to porn.


	10. Sharp fangs don't dull with age

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hibari's bored, so he wakes a drowsing carnivore. Yamamoto Tsuyoshi's fangs haven't dulled with age and Hibari wants, so he gets.
> 
> It isn't the first time this has happened.

It figured, Kyouya thought, that when he wanted a fight that none of his usual opponents were around. The omnivore and his pack of herbivores were in Italy minding Vongola business, the horse herbivore was in Italy minding his own business for once and even the small knife-happy carnivore of the Varia was not in Japan, like the rest of his pack-mates weren't. Unwilling to leave Namimori to just herbivores for protection -no matter how effective his Foundation was- he was staying.

This meant he did have a few options to settle the urge instead of meditate and train it away, if he was willing to rouse the carnivore that slumbered under Yamamoto Tsuyoshi's herbivorous disguise. Unfortunately, he knew he'd have to wait until business hours were over but until then the anticipation of the spar would carry him through the paperwork that was part of any successful organization like his Foundation. Better than the meditation; he'd end up like the martial artist he unfortunately shared blood-ties with, spouting philosophy instead of sense.

"Tetsu-kun," he breathed out and only had to wait seconds for his second to materialize from the room next to his. "Call Yamamoto Tsuyoshi and tell him that I'll be hungry and after business hours."

Kyouya knew he was smiling by the shiver that wracked his Testuya's frame, even as his second-in-command agreed that he would.

Hearing his second find the number and the conversation through the shouji that separated their office room into two only made that smile creep up further.

This would be more than satisfactory.

It was a pity that he couldn't make time move faster, but he could make the time spent waiting well worth the effort of patience.

* * *

This was not Yamamoto Tsuyoshi's first time sparring with the grown Hibari Kyouya and he doubted it would be the last; it was a good way to spice up a slow business day. It was also a good way to unwind after a hectic day full of catering. Getting a phone call from Kusakabe-kun to tell him that there'd be a spar was a reminder that Hibari-kun's manners were as direct and deplorable as always. Hibari-kun wasn't one for asking, when he could do without it.

To have a sword in hand, to move with purpose... the modern civilized world had no need of someone with the soul of a samurai or their sword, but to have a sword in hand, going though the forms only settled the proud samurai blood so much when the sword was the passion that stirred the blood and roused the soul. The sword gave him the strength to pick up the knife and serve with a smile and grace; the knife gave the body precision and dexterity and the means to live comfortably. The knife and sword provided for the body and soul.

After all, what man didn't love his passion? And so he changed into more traditional attire, picked up his sword and moved with the blade; flesh, steel and soul all moving as one cohesive whole.

And so, he had just finished his warm-up when he heard the sliding door of the dojo open and had a tonfa aimed at his face -the owner bearing a small savage smile showing more teeth than joy- less than a moment later.

"Excited as always," he said as he blocked Hibari's wild first swing and not letting the Cloud turn it into a contest of strength and leverage. Yet. "But it's bad manners not to close the door behind you!"

He put his weight behind the swing and the leverage pushed the younger man back an inch but he turned that into a sock-assisted slide on the polished dojo floor to just out of sword range. Hibari would have distance enough to have warning and time to react in. He was at least polite enough this time to take off his shoes.

"Testsuya-san will be coming in behind me, shortly."

"Kusakabe-kun is at least ten minutes away." It wouldn't surprise him if Hibari had run across the rooftops to get here as soon as he was done with his Foundation for the day. Ah, to be young and so impatient.

"Then he's being shamefully slow." And then Hibari attacked, swinging high with his right and any further thought about kids not having any manners these days was cast aside so he didn't get his skull bashed in.

The first few exchanges were always the wildest, but after that came the feints, the tricks and cleverness in lulling the other into falling for said feints, tricks and clever combinations. Hibari left a hole in his defense on the left and Tsuyoshi twisted the trap to draw attention to his blade and away from the foot that nearly stomped on Hibari's toes. Tsuyoshi nearly lost his balance dodging the retaliation there.

He knew that minutes had passed as he started to feel the strain of a long day of work, followed by the demands of fighting; they started getting more desperate and meaner. Striking with more strength, because Tsuyoshi had to counter the fatigue brought about by age and the ever-lasting march of time. Then there were the nastier maneuvers that would leave visible marks; Hibari gained a bloody lip when Tsuyoshi use the third form as a feint to get an elbow strike at Hibari's face, just as Tsuyoshi knew he'd gain a dark bruise along his right side where the sixth form was a shade a to slow to evade.

And then with a more western parry and twist, Tsuyoshi flung one of Hibari's tonfa through a paper screen before he was flung hard -removing the tonfa had put him in grappling range- to the floor with a tonfa at his throat. But all was not lost.

"Ah, we have a draw." Because his sword was angled at Hibari's stomach. Both of them had poor leverage but they could, they could. Now if he could draw the banter out some, he could have a moment to catch his breath.

"For an old carnivore, you still have sharp fangs."

"You don't reach old age without knowing how to use them," he replied. And with that the break was over as he kneed Hibari hard enough to knock him off and rolled to his feet as Hibari gained his.

Rain Flames to the diaphragm made breathing and gaining your breath back so much harder. Inevitably in their spars, they had escalated from purely physical to involving Flame; they were split more evenly on who escalated more often than not, as his opponent wasn't much for _not escalating_ when his blood was up.

"New trick?" Hibari grimaced, as though he were disgusted.

"Knocking dust off an old one," he corrected. "If I didn't have someone to use it against, I might have forgotten it and that would be shameful." More for unarmed combat but to not use everything against an overwhelming opponent would be not trying.

"I'll remember it." Hibari swore as he attacked once more; a duplicate tonfa that blazed violet in his hand.

Hibari's strikes were as elegant as they were brutal and Tsuyoshi had learned from experience to not let them connect unless he wanted to nurse his wounds for the next week and bruises for the week after; the ribs on his one side were more than enough. He sidestepped the first swing and used the eighth form to slash at the other incoming tonfa. He had managed to knock Hibari off balance but then Hibari threw his tonfa into Tsuyoshi's gut and managed to somehow twist and pull him down under him before Tsuyoshi had the time to react.

Tsuyoshi was certain that the headbutt that followed was just for sheer spite and meanness.

Which made it hard to be graceful when he was trying to catch his breath and have the grace to not mention how much he could feel through Hibari-kun's slacks and Tsuyoshi's own more traditional training wear.

"Petulant brat," he commented fondly. "What are you doing now?"

"Whatever I want," the brat known as Hibari Kyouya replied as he pressed a kiss to Tsuyoshi's cheek before pressing his teeth to the patch of just under his ear and dragged them to over his throat. That, was worth the shiver of anticipation and thrill. "And you want it too."

"I can't deny that part of me does," Tsuyoshi had to admit since it was all too willing to see more action than the occasional handjob and he did like that their spars did end like this sometimes. "But I'd rather not have an audience." And by that, he meant that Hibari's trusted subordinate who now was kneeling by the door, a small to-go bag and the tonfa that had been tossed through the screen laid out to next to Kusakabe's knees.

"I'll punish you for your lateness later, Tetsuya-kun. But for now leave that inside and close the door as you leave."

"Yes, Kyo-san." Kusakabe placed the items inside the dojo and closed the screen door.

Smooth and limber as a cat, Hibari stalked over to the door and leaned over for both items; Tsuyoshi took the chance to push himself upright. Hibari unzipped a pocket and pulled out a bottle of lube before tossing both bag and tonfa towards the other on the floor. "Strip."

"My rules or yours?" He asked, before even getting off the floor.

"I can be gracious in victory," Hibari said, as if Tsuyoshi's head wasn't aching with proof of the opposite. "I'll let you have your way tonight. For the most part." The 'you have to do as I say,' went unsaid.

"Unrepentant brat." Tsuyoshi said fondly, pushing his nagajuban loose enough that he could slip his arms out. It would take him a few moments to undo the ties on his hakama but he could do that blind so he was able to watch Kyouya-kun throw his dark jacket onto the growing pile off to the side. It was followed by a crisp white shirt that tried to cling on in vain, a belt, the left sock and then the right sock and Kyoya left the trousers to be a lonely island topped by his underwear. Or it was, before it was kicked onto the pile.

"I said strip," Kyouya reminded him.

"And you said it's my way," and having gotten the last of the ties undone, his white under-kimono slid to the floor behind him.

Kyouya-kun tossed the lube at him and proving that Takeshi got his reflexes honestly this time, he caught it. Holding the bottle of lube in his teeth, he slid out of his hakama and kicked his hakama off. Not the sexiest thing or most romantic thing he'd ever done -that remained the series of events that started with him and his more criminally-inclined wife eloping and having Takeshi and ended with her death two years before Takeshi went to middle school- but it worked.

Worked well enough to have Kyouya stalk towards him and settle over his lap, legs spread wide. Kyouya leaned forward to lick at his nipple before sinking his teeth into his collar bone.

Getting the hint of exactly what Kyouya wanted, he smeared lube up his dick. "Should I-" he began.

"No. Cum inside me. I cleaned it out earlier." Kyouya told him bluntly; now that was a lovely image, with more implications and explained how wound up Kyouya was. Kusakabe-san had called around three and on a weekday, the shop closed at eight-thirty and clean-up could easily last until ten. More than enough time to spend an hour or two working yourself open and clean.

It was however still surprising that Kyouya was using a plug. He pulled it out slowly and looked at it. Smaller than Tsuyoshi knew Kyouya could take, but well-chosen considering how active Kyouya could be. Tsuyoshi decided to test how open Kyouya was with it while petting the strip of skin behind the family jewels with his thumb.

The sharp intake of breath said he'd chosen his plan of attack well; Kyouya was exquisitely sensitive to anything but pain. Adding a slick finger had Kyouya biting his busted lip and breathing deep, but he had to stop petting to get any decent movement of either. Shifting his hand and fucking Kyouya with the plug had Kyouya's hips twitching and his cock too.

Keeping the movement regular and the angle not had shifted their chests closer together so their cocks could easily touch each other if they put a hand on them to direct them so. Instead, his free hand cupped Kyouya's ass to pull him even closer so Tsuyoshi could lay Kyouya on the floor if he could get the right leverage. Then he blew on Kyouya's cock and let the cum spill over as a bitten-off moan showed his much he had enjoyed that and didn't want to make obvious.

Unrepentant and demanding enough enough to give a cat lessons, as always.

Taking a sample for a taste, he hummed at the flavor and gave Kyouya a minute to regain control of himself. Removing the plug and setting it to the side, he pulled Hibari close to his chest to free his legs and then with Kyouya's cooperation, slowly seated the younger man deep on his cock.

Biting back his own groan at the feel, he ran his hands down Kyouya's sides and onto his thighs; Kyouya showed his displeasure by moving his hands off of Tsuyoshi's shoulders and squeezing the ribs he had bruised earlier.

"Wait." Kyouya commanded as he leaned forward and put his teeth to Tsuyoshi's neck for the second time tonight. Sinking his teeth into the muscle where shoulder met neck and putting his hands back on Tsuyoshi's shoulders, Kyouya paused for a small eternity until he rolled his hips.

The benefit of this position, was that Tsuyoshi didn't have to do all the work and his tired body certainly appreciated it as much as he appreciated how toned all of Kyouya's muscles were. Keeping his hands on Kyouya's hips was rather easy and the fact that Kyouya had forgotten himself enough to moan as he went down was music to his ears.

Putting more weight on one hip over the other and the angle was perfect; Kyouya was fucking himself silly as he enjoyed the shift in position Tsuyoshi knew he himself was getting close.

Biting his lip and determined to last a little longer than his younger lover, well, it wasn't cheating if the rules hadn't been clarified for tonight. A hand found its way to Hibari's cock and pulled, once, twice, five times before Hibari came with a shuddering growl. Tsuyoshi followed a few seconds later.

"That's against the rules," Hibari told him, irritation plain in his voice.

"Ah, but you hadn't clarified them tonight." Tsuyoshi deflected, feeling his cock soften.

"The rules," Hibari pushed him down further to lever himself up further and off Tsuyoshi's cock, "are what I say they are." A hand blazed violet as Tsuyoshi felt himself stiffen, becoming hard much much faster than normal; it felt larger too. A twitch of Hibari's hand blazed more blue, becoming indigo as Tsuyoshi felt something wrap around the the base of his cock. "And I say," Hibari -no, Kyouya- purred sitting himself back on Tsuyoshi's cock, "that I get what I want, when I want and how I want it. Whatever I want."

Tsuyoshi groaned; whatever his lover had done had his cock so sensitive it was nearly painful. This was going to make things difficult.

"Now fuck me well or I'll bite you to death."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really need to post things to here more often. Izzy is ashamed.
> 
> Also the name's changing? It's a bit of propriety and acknowledgement of roles/closeness. Is intentional.


End file.
